Ashayam
by L122yTorch
Summary: Jim's safety is compromised, and the last word he speaks to Spock before passing out rock the Vulcan to his core. Terrible summary...but one of the best fics I've ever written.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so I know that I really need to stop writing fics where Jim gets hurt…but I just had this idea and… I just can't…I HAVE to write it!

—-

Spock's eyebrows knitted together in concern. His heart flew in his side, a furious crimson red crept into the corners of his vision.

_Get the captain back. _Replayed over and over in Spock's head like a mantra. He stood on the bridge as acting captain, staring at the massive screen in front of him. The window for gazing out upon uncharted worlds, now a communication conference with an alien terrorist.

"You have insulted us with your terms Mr. Spock," the voice was dark and gravelly.

"They were not my terms Mr. Valglad, they were Star Fleet's terms. We are simply here…" "I know exactly why you're here," the alien interrupted, his emerald green eyes piercing through the screen.

His voice dropped even lower, "and we do not want to see you back until Star Fleet has agreed to _our_ terms." Spock felt something akin to fear race up his spine.

"By killing our landing party and taking our captain hostage, you have voided your right to peaceful negotiation," Spock's voice held steady.

The lips of the alien curved upward in a sick spiral. "Well then…as a show of our…good faith, it seems we should return your captain," he drawled out the word "captain" painfully and cocked his head in arrogance. The way the word fell from his tongue, with such disdain, made Spock's stomach twist.

"This is the price you have paid for your insulting treaty…the death of three men and the torture of your captain. I will beam him back now," the creature said, reclining in his elaborate chair. "If I were you, I'd assemble your doctors. He will be in much pain."

And with that the screen dissolved into a window that stared down upon the hostile planet. It was a swirling mass of black and blood red with bright emerald masses that reflected the green of the alien's eyes.

Spock didn't walk to the transport room, he ran. He told whoever was listening on the bridge to get Dr. McCoy, and then he bolted.

The Enterprises' sterile white hallways seemed to stretch on for an eternity. He whirled past confused and questioning stares until he flew into the transport room.

The first thing that registered was a sound. A heart-wrenching sound. It sounded like Jim, but distorted. It resembled a cry, a sob and a scream all rolled into one.

The sound gathered in decibels as swirling golden lights materialized around the captain's form.

There, lying on the floor of the transport was Jim Kirk's body. His back was to the audience of shocked Enterprise crew who had just beamed him back. He was clad in nothing but his boxers, his arms painfully twisted and bound behind his back, his feet also bound.

Spock felt physically sick. He rushed over to the spot where Jim lay and collapsed gracelessly on the floor. "Jim," the words slipped past his lips like a prayer.

He shifted the battered man beneath him and bright blue eyes looked up at him. They were filled with pain and anguish and it felt like Spock couldn't breathe, couldn't process all of the emotions that burst forth from some secret place within his chest. "Spock…" the words were barely audible. A whisper. A plea.

"God Jim," Bones came rushing in with a nurse and skidded to a halt on the ground next to Spock. The nurse was checking Jim's vitals, Bones was gathering data. And all Spock could think in the moment was…how could they focus? In a time like this?

"His vitals are all over the place," the nurse said. "From what I can tell so far, he has a bad concussion, two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder…" Spock couldn't keep listening.

"We need to get him out these fucking restraints," Bones said, uselessly fiddling with the dark substance that harshly bound Jim's limbs together. Spock reached for them and pulled at them with all of his strength, but to no avail.

Bones gave an "Ah," and reached for his laser scalpel. Bright blue light lit a trail of sparks down the binds until they came apart. But Jim didn't move. His limbs were like dead weights that he had no control over.

McCoy then attached things to the surface of Jim's skin, he hit him in the neck with two hypo-sprays, but it didn't garner the usual furious reaction from Jim. Jim wasn't reacting at all. He had given into the dark refuge from the pain, closed his eyes and let go of consciousness.

"Because of his concussion, we won't be able to sedate him once he wakes up," Bones said in a flurry of words. "Now's the best time to put his arm back."

"Put his arm back?" Spock repeated in a questioning tone. "Yes, it's dislocated," Bones said using a scanner to run over the area in question. Spock could see it. The bone pulled from it's socket. He blinked hard and steadied his vision.

Bones moved around Jim's still body and positioned himself, the nurse hung on to Jim's body as the doctor yanked the arm. A 'POP' filled the room and suddenly Jim was awake, screaming. Screaming as loud as his exhausted body would allow. It was a sound that none of them wished to ever hear again.

His mouth hung open, lungs heaving for oxygen, mind scrambling for some way to push the pain down. Tears had formed at his eyes and spilled on to the floor.

"Hey buddy," Bones said in his most soothing voice. "You're gonna be just fine. I promise."

Spock felt his world shift. He struggled to regain control of the myriad of emotions that were running rampant within him. In this moment he did not feel Vulcan. He felt human.

Jim's eyes rolled in pain and usually bright golden skin of his face a battered and pale reflection of what it should be.

Bones stood and ran towards the bed that would race Jim to the med bay.

Now turned on his back, covered in a smattering of sweat and bruises, Jim sought out Spock's gaze. More slick, shiny tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. Spock wanted to scan his body and assess the damage, but he couldn't pull his stare from Jim's.

Somewhere along the way Spock had reached out, his left hand beneath the pounding head of his captain, his right reaching over his body. Liquid was beginning to form at his eyes…a startling display of waste for a race built to conserve water in a dessert world.

Through the blinding white hot agony, Jim attempted to focus on Spock, on his deep volcanic eyes that swirled with pain and anger. A thousand thoughts flitted through his mind like a picture book. But the hand flipping the pages was slowing down, the thoughts, the images, being pulled down by an ocean of pain.

"Jim," Spock said into the space between them as he noticed the captain's eyes drifting again into tired obscurity.

The captain gathered his strength and re-focused his gaze on Spock.

"Ashayam," he said softly to Spock, as his eyes closed.

The word ripped through Spock, it violently shook every cell of control in his body. He felt like he was being pulled apart at the seams. But he couldn't focus on the roar between his ears once Bones began to speak.

"Get 'em up here Spock…carefully" Bones said, standing next to the sterile medical bed.

Strong hands reached out and scooped up the vulnerable man curled up in a ball on the floor. With a herculean effort, the Vulcan stood, his human in his arms, and turned to place him on the bed.

Bones and the nurse disappeared out the door. "Ashayam," the word rocked through Spock's brain once more. He felt a hot, uncomfortable liquid sliding down his face.

For the second time in his life, he cried.


	2. Chapter 2

A hot tear slipped down Spock's cool face. A roaring ring was reverberating between his ears and his eyes were fixed on the point where Jim had disappeared.

The thought of losing Jim… again…  
It was painful and unbearable and the notion couldn't even be entertained.

He steadied his breath and for the first time looked around the room. It was Nyota's gaze that struck him in particular. The shock he found in her features was startling. But he couldn't wrap his mind around anything other than Jim.

It felt like the ground beneath him had given way and he was free-falling into a pit of chaos and sadness. He then became aware of the feeling of multiple hot gazes singing his skin. The room suddenly felt far too small and his brain screamed to his feet to move.

Many crew members that stood in the transport room with him moved or gestured as if to stop or console or follow Spock out of the room, but none did.

Almost as an afterthought he flipped open his communicator and told Sulu that he temporarily had the con.

He huffed the sentence nearly breathlessly and found his body being propelled to med bay. For as long and lithe as his build was, it seemed to take far too many steps to reach his destination. And the faster he walked, the harder he breathed, the more the ship seemed to spin. His thoughts spiraling towards the memories of Jim dying in the radiation chamber.

Finally he swung around the corner and strode towards sickbay. The doors whirred open and he stood there, in the entrance of the vast space, grasping the wall next to him for support.

The feelings he was experiencing were crippling. A sick trepidation gripped his insides and clawed at his chest. With alarm he noted that tiny black dots were sprinkled into the corners of his vision. He blinked hard, multiple times.

Jim was lying on the same bio bed that had carried him from the transport room and Dr. McCoy stood over him, his hands moving, along with a couple of other medics and nurses.

His brow furrowed. He felt sick. He didn't even notice a set of hands gripping his biceps. "Commander Spock," the gravel voice beckoned his response. He looked up at the nurse and opened his mouth but the words were caught in his throat…the throat that suddenly felt very tight.

Why can't I breathe, he wondered to himself, panic flaring in his eyes. "Spock," the voice appeared again, this time more forceful. "You're having a panic attack," the man in front of him said.

He looked at the blur that was Jim and McCoy and the medics and then back at the man that stood before him. "Fear is illogical," he reasoned aloud. "It's okay," the man said, gripping Spock by the left shoulder and attempting to remove him from the med bay.

Spock made a protesting noise and resisted. "Sir, please, come outside with me, you'll feel better, I promise," and with that he gave into the gentle nudge out the door.

He felt disgusted at his lack of control. It was as if all of his Vulcan discipline had melted in the heat of potential loss and pooled around him in a public display of humiliation. But he couldn't help that when he blinked all he could see was Kirk's vacant face on the other side of the glass. His hand limply falling away as the last sparks of life dissipated.

It ripped open a deep wound that wasn't even two years old and he felt the strongest urge to lash out in some way.

"Focus on something," the voice in front of him said. "Focus on the wall or the floor…count or…recite a poem or do math," the nurse suggested. Spock looked up at him as if he were insane but began to count in his head anyway.

It helped.

"I want to go in," he heard his voice fill the space between he and his helper. "I wouldn't advise it," was the response. "Before you entered they were preparing the captain for surgery."

Spock's breath hitched. The nurse noticed the resurgent panic. "But just so you know..when Bones took his initial assessment of the Captain, I heard him say 'nothin I can't fix.'"

Although this information hardly seemed like sufficient evidence of Jim's recovery, he felt his breathing slow just a bit. Just enough for him to wrap his fingers around the notion of stability.

"Thank you," he said genuinely to the nurse with a nod, giving the man permission to disappear back inside med bay.

Spock stood, his back against the cold white wall and closed his eyes. He felt the familiar yearning for revenge…just as he had with Khan. He felt the same roaring rip of pain as he watched his mother disappear before him. He felt the startling loneliness that had engulfed him as his planet disappeared. But despite the cacophony of feelings roaring through his body, he couldn't move. He couldn't act. Not yet.

He needed to know that Jim was going to recover. He had to be sure of this before anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock knew that he should return to the bridge, resume command. But his mind was entirely engulfed by Jim. By the way his body twisted on the transport pad, by the confused and reeling look etched into his eyes, by the single word that slipped past his lips before his eyelids slid closed.

He gulped and steadied his emotions.

No one had ever seen him cry in life, save for Jim. It was an act he vowed never to repeat. But standing outside of med bay, waiting, desperately wishing to be next to Jim's side, he felt the urge to cry. He admonished himself for it. He felt disgusted by his burning anger and clinging desperation.

Never had he put so much stock in another's life. It was his intention to follow the prime directive, to make advances in science, to ensure the survival of the Vulcan colony, to perform his duties as a Star Fleet officer. It was never his desire to become emotionally attached to a human.

Yet the feelings he had towards his captain, defied his version of logic. And those feelings were never stronger than in the moments he feared losing Jim altogether.

He stood outside of med bay, his hands wadded into impossibly tight fists, his heart flying in his side, wondering if he would lose Kirk…once again.

As the hours passed, it only became more difficult to wait. Nurses buzzed by, crew members inquired to Jim's condition, and Spock was continually told that Jim was in surgery and that he wasn't allowed to see him.

He took a breath and looked down at the floor. None of this seemed real. The gravity of the situation reminding him of the destruction of Vulcan. How helpless he was as he stood by and watched everything he loved fall to pieces.

He couldn't lose Jim.

"Mr. Spock," a different nurse said to him. He hadn't even noticed when she appeared. Quickly he turned to face her, his lips parting, taking in a steady stream of fresh air to calm himself before hearing what was about to come next.

"Captain Kirk has been stabilized. He required extensive surgery," she paused, her glossy red hair shining like a ruby beneath the bright hallway lights. "Can I see him?" Spock managed to get out. The woman nervously bit her lip and looked at the doors. "Visitors aren't being permitted at this time," she replied, her high voice only adding to the annoyance of her words.

Spock set his jaw tight, his black eyes piercing the door. "He is out of surgery, correct?" "Yes…but…" she didn't have time to finish the sentence before Spock was pushing past her, into the med bay. "Sir," she called after him, but to no avail.

With a brisk gate he swung through the open space and literally bumped into Bones coming out of Jim's room.

McCoy was startled by the look on Spock's face. He seemed…scared. But only for a moment, before this features condensed back into a mask of mild concern. "Spock, I can't let you see him." The Vulcans eyebrows knitted together. "Why not?"

"He's barely stable. And hardly in a condition to be visited." Spock's eyes grew darker, his chest moving up and down noticeably beneath his blue science uniform. Spock took a moment to compose himself, and looked down at his hands that remained clasped in front of him. Jim's blood clung to the sleeves of his shirt. It made the dark blue material turn purple. He felt ill.

With renewed determination he looked back up at the doctor. "Please," he heard himself grit out. Bones looked genuinely surprised. He looked as if he was about to speak but was interrupted by Spock. "I wish to see him now," he said moving past Bones, and the doctor didn't stop him.

He slipped past the brunette doctor, still wearing a surgical smock smattered with human blood.

Mentally, he knew what to expect when he saw Jim. He had seen the man beaten, bloodied, bruised and even dead. But it still wasn't enough. He was still taken aback by the pale pallor of Jim's skin, by the patched bandages with bright red blotches seeping through. Jim's face was swollen, his broken body exposed beneath the shining lights of med bay.

He came closer, pulled up a seat next to the bio bed. Tentatively he sat, never taking his eyes off of Jim's face. He wished to say something, but didn't know what. He wished to move, but didn't know how. So he placed a hand next to Jim's on the bed.

He closed his eyes, the image of Jim like this becoming more and more difficult to take in.

His thoughts were screaming through his mind, in the most uncontrolled, human way possible. The onslaught of emotions were uncomfortable to say the least. It was in these moments he felt inadequate to be a Vulcan but too misunderstanding to be human.

"Ashayam" the word reverberated in his head, pulling at his heart. He tried to focus on that word more than the other word that was ringing in his mind…."torture." They had tortured Jim, his captain. He should have been in that landing party.

Despair began to envelope the alien. He wanted desperately to meditate, to regain his composure, but…

Suddenly his mind was snapped violently from his train of thought. A burning spark erupted in his fingers and the sensation flew threw every nerve in his body. He felt an overwhelming pain pushing down his mental barriers, yet beneath that pain was such a full-bodied and brilliant sense of desire.

His eyes snapped open and looked down at his hand. Jim had reached beneath his right hand, and extended two fingers that he had slipped beneath Spock's index and middle finger.

Jim kissed Spock.

And the realization of this rumbled through Spock, it split open his resolve, and sent a fresh tidal wave of feelings barreling through his already exhausted system.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim's head roared, the lights above his bed stung at his burning dry eyes. There was a light in his mind that pushed him forward, out of darkness. He remembered reaching for that light, reaching for life, and when he touched it, sparks erupted in his fingers.

The feeling wasn't uncomfortable, it was desirable, but still he pulled the hand back, and fell once again into an uncomplicated darkness.

The second time he had reached for that light in his mind he emerged on the other side of consciousness. Lying here on this bio bed, listening to the monitors whisper sweet nothings into his ears. He gulped but his throat stuck together. For a moment he panicked, wondered how long he had been unconscious…He heard the spike of his panic echo in the bio bed monitor.

There was no one at his bedside. And just as the palest pink lips parted to give signal of life, Bones came into the room.

"Fuck Jim," McCoy huffed, rushing over to his side, hypospray in hand.

Only Bones could make a curse sound like a blessing. There were such layers of relief built into those two single syllable words. "Good to see you too," Jim croaked, surprised at how alien his voice sounded.

He tried to crack a smile, but failed.

"How long was I out?"

McCoy drew near and gently turned Kirk's face, slipping a hypospray into his neck. Jim didn't even hiss in protest…he was just so damn tired.

The doctor pulled away and looked at his friend, a response forming behind his troubled eyes. "Nearly three weeks," he said, turning to check Jim's vitals on the monitor. Bones folded his arms and stared at the screen. "You had us really worried there Jim," a moment of loaded silence passed between them.

"I swear to god, every time you nearly die…it takes a decade off my lifespan," the medical officer said, turning his head towards Jim with a small grin.

"How bad was I?"

McCoy walked back towards the bed, teasing his upper lip in his bottom teeth. "Pretty bad off Jim. You had two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a knife wound and one hell of a concussion," he shifted his weight, his face really did look ten years older under this light.

"We didn't want to sedate you because of the concussion, but we had to do surgery and repair the damage done by the knife," his heavy eyes slid to the floor. "Unfortunately," he sighed, "the sedation was too much…coupled with your concussion…" Jim's eyes grew wide at the pause in the sentence, his breath held captive within his chest. "It put you into a coma Jim," Bones finished.

The captain didn't know how to respond. He could see the fear lurking on his friend's features.

"But I'm okay? Now I mean?" he asked.

"From what I can tell…yeah," the doctor answered, picking up a PADD and staring at it intently. "We didn't know when you'd wake up…or if."

"I swear Jim, you're like a friggin cat," McCoy said to the blonde in the bio bed who looked confused at the statement. "You must have 9 friggin lives to keep cheating death like this," Jim smiled an empty smile. "I didn't cheat death last time, remember?"

McCoy looked up from the PADD and briefly wondered what it must have been like for Jim to die.

The memory made his stomach twist and desperately he wanted out of this line of conversation. So he set the device down and turned to leave the room. "Nurse Chapel will give you another look over," Bones said. "I'm gonna tell the bridge that you're alive…definitely Spock…" the doctor was nearly out of sight.

"Wh…what, why 'definitely Spock?" Jim asked, trying to painstakingly prop himself up on his good arm. His friend turned around. "Spock was in here constantly while you were out. Anytime he wasn't on shift or getting his required three hours of sleep, he was by your side."

Jim slid back down into the bed. McCoy disappeared.

Spock.

He closed his eyes and remembered seeing his First Officer hunched over him.

Spock was holding him.

He was in so much pain that it took his breath away. The room spun violently, then went dark.

Memories of how he had been tortured were nagging at his mind, but he kept the door that held them back, shut tight. He couldn't handle it right now - the realization of everything that had happened.

He didn't want to free those memories and let them course through his mind. Still, without thought, a spike of fear-fueled adrenaline surged through his body, chest rising and falling faster.

"Captain?"

His eyelids flew open, focus falling on Spock who now stood at the entrance of his small room. "Spock," Jim sighed, an abounding sense of relief starting to wash away at the panic.

"Are you alright? Should I summon the doctor?" Spock sounded concerned. "No…no, I'm fine," Jim assured him with a steady tone and a slight wave of his hand. Spock seemed satisfied with that answer, he lowered his head a little and stepped closer to the bed.

"It is good to see you awake Captain." "Dear god man, call me Jim…" Spock nodded. "Jim."

"It's good to be awake," Jim sighed. "Thanks for keeping me company," the words were almost inaudible, yet Spock's eyes widened. "Bones told me that you spent time with me while I was…asleep."

Wheels were turning behind Spock's eyes, but all that came out of his mouth was "you are welcome Jim."

There was a vulnerability in the moment they were sharing. Jim wanted Spock to be closer. He wanted to tell him everything that happened on that miserable planet, wanted to hear about everything that had happened in the three weeks since…there was so much to say and learn that the very thought of it all was exhausting.

"There's so much…" Jim started but trailed off. There were a dozens of possible endings to that sentence he could choose from. There's so much I want to share with you, so much I'm scared of, so much to say and do and ask…

The Vulcan reached out a hand and placed it lightly on Jim's arm. "I know Jim, but for now, you need to focus on your recovery." He wanted to resist touching the captain, but the situation warranted physical contact in a reassuring manner, so he provided it. Still, the touch made his fingers tingle, his affection spike, put his mental shields to the test as Jim's potent emotions pounded against them.

The officer removed his hand just a moment before nurse Chapel came in. "Captain, it's so good to see you awake," she said as she crossed the small space and began running surface scans.

Jim glanced over at her, then back to Spock. He felt like he was trying to run through quick sand. There was so much he needed to do and he was stuck here, with a head that felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

"Commander, we'll need the room," Chapel spoke, breaking Jim's train of thought.

"Of course," he acquiesced, placing his hands behind his back and heading for the exit.

"You gonna come back?" Jim asked. Chapel was delicately turning his head in order to take a brain scan, his eyes snapped shut in a wince of white hot pain. Spock's human eyes looked tortured. "Of course captain. I will revisit you once Alpha shift ends," he said stepping out of the room.

Leaving the tiny space was exceedingly difficult, especially after he witnessed such a flash of pain fall across Jim's face. But he had to leave, had to resume his duties, had to prepare for the questions Jim would ask, and whatever torturous stories he would share.

It was in considering the latter of these things, that Spock found his resolve trembling.


End file.
